


railway revelation

by collywobblesfirth



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 06:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11618289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collywobblesfirth/pseuds/collywobblesfirth
Summary: please tell me there’s a fic out there where it’s based during the scene of Eggsy being tied to the train tracks as a test and right when he thinks he’s gonna die he says,“Harry, I love you”which shooks Harry to the core and he’s just staring, mouth agape, at a tied up Eggsy-obsessed-with-gay-but-is-not-gayon tumblrThis is that fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this tumblr post](https://obsessed-with-gay-but-is-not-gay.tumblr.com/post/163089658794/please-tell-me-theres-a-fic-out-there-where-its). 
> 
> HUGE thank you to [reindeerjumper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper) and all my tumblr fam for eggsying - I mistyped that and I'm not gonna fix it - egging me on to get this going. 
> 
> I will tentatively call this a two-parter, for now. Apologies for any less-than-satisfactory spelling and/or grammar and/or characterisations. Rating may or may not go up.

“This knife can save your life,” the stranger grinned, a manic gleam in his eye.

The wind kicked up then, a low rumble running through the ground as Eggsy turned his head to see a light in the distance. The train blared, its light glowing brighter with each passing second. Eggsy struggled against his restraints, choking out a “Fuck!”

“My employer’s got two questions for you, Eggsy,” the man loomed over him, “what the  _ fuck _ is Kingsman? And who’s Harry Hart?”

Eggsy writhed, stricken with panic. “I don’t know who the  _ fuck _ that is!” 

\---

From the alcove where he hid in wait, just out of sight of his recumbent candidate, Harry smirked.

_ “There’s a lad,”  _ Merlin said through the glasses comms,  _ “looks like your candidate and Percival’s will be battling it out.” _

“Hush, Merlin,” Harry murmured, watching the feed of Eggsy in the corner of his glasses as the boy squirmed against his restraints. “Don’t let Arthur hear you.”

“ _ Chester excused himself when Eggsy woke up,”  _ Merlin said in a low voice, and Harry could almost see the look of distaste on the tech wizard’s face. “ _ Probably couldn’t bear to watch him succeed yet again. _ ”

Harry laughed through his nose at that. Merlin would never admit it, but it was plain to see he had his favourites. Not that he would let that interfere with the testing, of course. 

“ _ Ten seconds to trapdoor activation,”  _ Merlin said, businesslike. Harry turned his attention back to his candidate.

“Shit!” Eggsy yelled, wriggling desperately.

“Aw, Eggsy, I just killed two of your friends that gave me the same bullshit answer!” Richard spat, clearly enjoying himself. Always one for the theatrics.

“Fuck! Just cut the fucking ropes, please!” Eggsy cried out. He could feel the tracks vibrating as the train approached, the wind rushing ever louder in his ears.

“Hey, Eggsy! Is Kingsman worth dying for?”

The train was five seconds away. Harry could see his face clenched, utterly defiant and incredibly loyal; a swell of pride filled Harry’s chest as prepared to swap places with Richard.

“Any last words, Eggsy?”

“ _ Standby, activating trapdoor now-” _

“Fuck – Harry!” Eggsy’s shout drowned out Merlin over the comms, eyes still screwed up tight. “I fucking love you!”

\---

Eggsy was, if anything, a tad disappointed to realise the honeypot mission was just a red herring. He could have done with some meaningless seduction. And he’d been doing fairly well, he thought - better than the others, at any rate - and winning over the bird “in the biblical sense” would have been a welcome distraction from his own… predicament. It wasn’t that Eggsy didn’t like girls. He was more than fond of them. But he was also a little too fond of someone in particular, and that someone  _ definitely _ wasn’t a girl. 

Harry Hart, the fit posh bloke who waltzed in and upturned his life by offering him the opportunity of a lifetime; Harry Hart, the fit posh bloke who was simultaneously frightening and utterly captivating (if Eggsy was honest with himself) a little - no - incredibly arousing; Harry Hart was very much Eggsy’s current predicament _.  _

Well, okay, Eggsy’s current predicament was the fact that he was tied to a railway track, his death approaching just a little too quickly in the form of a  _ massive fucking train _ , and he can’t even remember the last words he said to his mum. To his sister. To Ryan and Jamal. His last words to Roxy, Merlin, Andrew the tailor. To Harry.

“Hey, Eggsy! Is Kingsman worth dying for?”

Except all Eggsy heard was,  _ Is Harry worth dying for?  _

His predicament. Harry, the man who bludgeoned a pub full of idiots in front of him; Harry, the man who’d almost gotten himself killed but - to Eggsy’s overwhelming relief - woken from his coma, looking spritely and thoroughly unruffled by the whole incident; Harry fucking Hart, the spy, the predicament, the man Eggsy was currently arse-over-tit  _ besotted _ with.

And Eggsy’s immediate thought, of course, was yes. 

Yes, Harry Hart was definitely worth dying for. 

The train rolled impossibly closer, the light blinding Eggsy; he braced himself for the unthinkable pain, fists clenched, eyes closed tight. He tried to picture his mum, and Daisy, smiling happily and being all that was good and innocent in the world. He pictured Harry, too, suave and enchanting, smiling at him in the mirror, pride in his gaze as he congratulated him on his progress in the trials-

“Any last words, Eggsy?”

The train was close, too fucking close. Eggsy felt his adrenaline levels spike higher than ever before, the blood rushing in his ears, and Harry, in his stupid posh red robe and Kingsman-issued slippers, proud and confident and awfully handsome, was all Eggsy could see behind his eyelids. 

He cursed involuntarily, and shouted Harry’s name and probably - definitely - more, but he could only feel and not hear himself cry out as the train bore down on him, the screaming metal utterly deafening. 

Eggsy felt like he was falling for a sharp second, which he figured must have been the moment of death. The thundering of the train and the blood rushing in his ears had overpowered his senses, so that explained why he couldn’t feel his limbs being torn asunder. And it was dark - could he still open his eyes? 

Did he even have eyes anymore?

_ Hang about. _ It wasn’t so dark, suddenly. And was the overwhelming roar of the train getting more distant, or had he just perished and lost the ability to hear? He thought he could feel his entire body being lifted heavenwards, and yes, this must be it, no  _ fucking  _ way did he survive getting squashed by a train.

A mechanic whir and a  _ snick _ alerted him to the fact that his ears still worked. He also realised he was still squeezing his eyes shut, and, scarcely daring to believe it, slowly reopened them. His heart - his  _ beating _ heart? - pounded as he took in the vision of Harry standing at his feet, standing in the same position as his captor had been seconds before; Harry was staring, no, positively  _ gawking _ at him, and Eggsy figured he’d died and gone to heaven because Harry Hart would never have such a slack-jawed expression on his face. Or maybe he’d suffered massive brain trauma and was hallucinating. 

As he took in his surroundings, Eggsy paled, realisation flooding in. This certainly wasn’t the afterlife. Oh no. 

Oh  _ no. _

Of course. It was a test.  

It was a fucking  _ test, _ and he’d screamed Harry’s name - and then some - at the top of his fucking lungs just when he thought he was going to die.

Harry stood agape, knife in hand, his face a mishmash of pride and befuddlement as he stared down at Eggsy. Eggsy returned the stare, heat rising into his face. Time stood still as they gazed at each other, the magnitude of what Eggsy  _ knows  _ he said weighing down on them both. 

Eggsy found himself wishing he had been crushed by the screaming locomotive instead.

_ “Galahad?”  _ Merlin buzzed through the comms.  _ “I don’t suppose you want to... free the boy?” _

Harry only met this with silence. Merlin intervened over the loudspeaker,  _ “Congratulations, Eggsy. Well done on completing another test.” _

Eggsy started at that, looking around hastily for the source of the voice, then shook his head. He met Harry’s eyes again. The man’s look of bewilderment had been replaced with the cool, gentlemanly exterior Eggsy first encountered outside Holborn station.

“Yes, bloody well done,” Harry said finally, sounding as composed as ever. 

Eggsy beamed at him; Harry’s steely facade was making him uneasy, but he felt a surge of confidence and relief at knowing he’d made it through to the next round. “So…” Eggsy began, his grin turning cheeky, “Are you gonna stand around all day, or are you gonna free me?” 

Harry inhaled sharply, his fist clenching imperceptibly tighter around the knife in his hand, but he made no other move towards Eggsy.

_ “Yes, Galahad will untie you and bring you back to the control room, Eggsy,”  _ Merlin supplied, a tad impatiently. Then through the glasses comms he hissed,  _ “Harry, I don’t think I want to know what’s going on, but Chester’s on his way back. Get a fucking move on.” _

Harry did as he was told without another word, slicing primly at the ropes restraining Eggsy’s wrists and ankles. He ignored the surge of warmth that travelled up his arm as he helped Eggsy to his feet, barely hearing his muttered “...thanks”. As the boy brushed himself off, Harry made a ‘Follow me’ gesture, turning on his heel, pointedly avoiding his gaze. Eggsy shoved his hands in his pockets and trailed after Harry, utterly unsure of what to say. 

Part of him was positively jumping for joy at having passed another trial; a bigger, much more bothersome part of him was shitting bricks at the prospect of looking Harry in the eye ever again.

Eggsy followed Harry back to the alcove where he had been hiding to reveal a passageway and stairs. Harry took them two at a time, as if being chased; Eggsy stared after him for a moment before jogging hurriedly behind him. 

They reached the control room in time to see Merlin watching his wall screen a little too intently, where the image of Richard tying Charlie’s unconscious body to the tracks was showing. Behind him stood Roxy and who he presumed was the Kingsman agent that proposed her. Roxy greeted Eggsy with a knowing grin, and the little blood left in Eggsy’s face completely drained away as he realised everyone in this room had been watching him. Everyone in this room had  _ heard  _ him.

Harry strode across to Merlin’s right, leaving Eggsy rooted to the spot. The agent standing beside Roxy approached him then. 

“Alastair,” he offered, hand held out, and Eggsy shook it clumsily. “Codename Percival. My congratulations to you, young man.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Eggsy heard himself reply. Percival nodded, a wry smile hinting at the corner of his mouth, and he returned to his position standing next to Roxy. 

Eggsy managed to take a few steps toward Merlin’s terminal to watch the action more closely. Harry caught his eye as he approached, but looked away swiftly as Richard’s voice came through the terminal’s comms link.

“Candidate is stirring, standby,” Richard intoned, his normal voice taking Eggsy by surprise. The man had done a convincing job of being a crazed interrogator just moments before. Eggsy replayed the test in his head, reddening as he remembered exactly what he’d screamed in what he thought were his last few seconds on Earth.

Charlie woke up then and squawked, “What in bloody fuck is this?” 

His embarrassing confession forgotten for the moment, Eggsy watched Charlie’s test, shifting from foot to foot, his jittery thumbs twiddling back and forth. His unease subsided, however, as Charlie let out a very shrill shriek at the sight of the train. Eggsy couldn't help but bark out a laugh as he watched him writhe pathetically on the tracks, blurting out Chester’s identity in a panicked plea for his life. 

At Charlie’s feeble admission a growl came through Chester's glasses link, and forgetting himself for a moment, Eggsy's turned to Harry, mid-laugh, in time to see his mentor’s lips quirk upwards. They shared their mirth for all of a second before Eggsy reddened more deeply than before, and turned his attention back to the screen. 

Chester swapped places with Richard as the train rushed past, waving away the knife Richard proffered him, and Eggsy could see Chester was decidedly pissed off. In a low voice, he informed Charlie of his failure, at which the candidate grovelled, begging to be untied. 

“Untie yourself,” Chester replied gruffly, and stalked off. He ended his glasses link then, presumably heading off elsewhere to sulk.

“Arthur- Arthur, please! Help!” Eggsy grinned at Charlie’s pathetic yells. “Someone! Anyone!”

Good riddance. Charlie had always been a right fucking prick.

Muting the feed, Merlin swung around on his chair to face the four of them. “Galahad, Percival; congratulations. Your… candidates,” his gaze bored into Harry’s, “have reached the final stage of the testing process.” He smiled placidly at Eggsy, but his eyes were reproachful. Eggsy gulped. He was surprised he hadn’t been reprimanded by now, or even disqualified, shamed, forcibly removed from the premises- 

“As is tradition,” Merlin interrupted his spiralling inner turmoil, “you now have twenty-four hours to spend with your candidates.”

Eggsy shat a brick. 

“Eggsy, Roxy, you’re to report back to Savile Row at 0600 morning after tomorrow. Dismissed.”

* * *

The bullet train ride to Savile Row was uncomfortably quiet, save for the rustling of fabric every time Harry crossed and uncrossed his legs. Eggsy had his arms crossed, sitting opposite Harry, eyes fixed on Harry’s tie. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his eyes any further. If Harry caught his eye he might well die. That wasn’t looking likely, however; Harry’s face remained stoic, eyes cast down, focused on something much further away than his lap.

Percival and Roxy exchanged wry grins, neither daring to start a conversation. That is, for the first four minutes of excruciating silence. Then: “My, it is getting late,” Percival - Alastair - made a show of checking his watch. “I’d say it’s straight home and to bed, eh boys?”

Roxy kicked him in the shin. Eggsy had to crack a smile at that, trying hard to ignore the unease settling in his stomach. Harry hadn’t said a single word to him since they reached the control room. Eggsy wasn’t sure if he wanted Harry to praise him for his efforts, or berate him for being a total fucking idiot. What he definitely wanted was for Harry to just  _ say something _ .

“Not very ladylike,” Alastair was snickering from beside Eggsy.

“Not very gentlemanly to ridicule, either,” she shot back, but her face was full of mirth. She glanced at Eggsy, who was watching Harry as intently as he dared.

Not that it mattered. Harry was several worlds away, had been since he stood at Eggsy’s feet as he lay supine on the train tracks with horror written across his face.

_ Harry. I fucking love you. _

Well. Wasn’t  _ that _ a revelation.

He couldn’t pretend not to have heard him, if the footage Merlin had just sent him of himself goggling at Eggsy was anything to go by. He’d lost his composure for a moment, and Eggsy had seen. There was no guessing what the boy had been thinking. Hell, there was no guessing what the boy was thinking right that second. Harry wasn’t game to look him in the eye just yet, worried of what he might see there, but moreover, worried about what Eggsy might see looking back at him.

Harry was a solitary man. The very nature of his job rather dictated it. He hardly had time for himself, let alone another human being. He could content himself with a decent novel and two fingers of scotch until the day he died.

That being said, there was definitely something about the way Eggsy had stared at him, open-mouthed, awed, in The Black Prince shortly after Harry had thrashed a group of goons, had imprinted in his mind. The way Eggsy smiled at him after he had roused from his stint in the Kingsman medical bay, eyes soft, looking more relieved than Harry expected he would be. The way he’d grinned at him as his pudgy little dog successfully sat its furry arse on the linoleum floor, panting in Harry’s direction. The way Eggsy had preened at Harry’s praise at making it to the final six candidates, then the final five, four, three. 

The way Eggsy had declared his love for him with what he thought would be his final breath.

Harry was in a spot of trouble, there. He had been trying for some weeks now to define what exactly he felt for his protege. “Love” was a rather strong word, but “fondness” wasn’t strong enough. “Infatuation” was a poor descriptor at best, too shallow. “Admiration”, perhaps, but he held a great admiration for Merlin and most of his fellow knights, and it was far too… platonic. Harry would say he was perhaps, maybe a touch, falling for Eggsy. 

A bit. 

Not a lot.

And that was if he was being dishonest. But-

“It wouldn’t be right,” Eggsy said.

Harry started. “I beg your pardon?”

It was Eggsy’s turn to flinch, not expecting Harry to join in the conversation. He recovered remarkably quickly and continued to Roxy, “It wouldn’t be right, would it, to have to give our dogs back if we failed?” 

“Charlie will be taking his dog with him,” Alastair said. 

“Pity the poor thing,” Roxy muttered. 

“Who? Charlie?” Eggsy furrowed his brow.

“His dog.” 

Eggsy snorted. Harry watched the dimples that appeared as Eggsy’s mouth split into a grin, and he really _did_ have a lovely smile-

“You alright, Harry?” The dimples were gone and a concerned frown had replaced it. Harry looked up at Eggsy. “You’re, ah, staring,” Eggsy continued, his cheeks slightly ruddy, “you alright?” 

“Fine, thank you,” Harry clipped, diverting his eyes back to his own lap. Eggsy sagged into his seat.

The cabin remained silent for twelve more excruciating minutes. The lift ride from the underground station up to the fitting room entrance was filled with quiet chatter as Roxy and Alastair discussed their next move, as it was “Really very late in the day, or abysmally early in the morning, surely it would make the most sense to retire for the night”. Eggsy glanced at Harry on more than one occasion, opening his mouth to ask him about their own plans, but found himself speechless each time. Harry would not look at him.

Well, Harry  _ could not  _ look at him. He had, earlier in the day, prepared his guest room for the boy, with every confidence that he would reach this stage of the tests. To bring him home now, however, felt indecent. Truthfully, Harry couldn’t bear the idea of bringing him into his house, knowing what he did, and making Eggsy sleep in the guest room so far from his own bed. 

Doing his best to quash the mental image of Eggsy in his bedroom, Harry cleared his throat as they exited the fitting room. “Our cab should be waiting just outside,” he said to the back of Eggsy’s head. Eggsy turned to look at him, but Harry brushed past, making for the shop door. He held it out for Percival and Roxy to exit, with Eggsy trailing after them.

“Where we goin’?” Eggsy asked, as Harry followed him outside.

“I’ve a bed made up for you,” Harry replied, motioning towards the Kingsman taxi on the street in front of them. “Unless you’d prefer to return home?”

“At three thirty in the morning, bruv?” Eggsy shook his head. “Wouldn’t wanna wake no-one.”

They exchanged polite good-byes with Roxy and Alastair. Roxy whispered something in Eggsy’s ear as they embraced, turning his cheeks pink; giggling, she parted from him and slipped into the taxi. 

Harry held the cab door open for Eggsy and absolutely did  _ not  _ gape at his backside as he climbed in. Cursing inwardly, he followed him into the taxi and nodded at the driver.

“My congratulations again, Eggsy,” Harry ventured, once they’d driven a block or two.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eggsy mumbled, hands clasped in his lap. 

Silence reigned once more between them. Only minutes later, thanks to the late hour, they pulled up in front of Harry’s townhouse, and Eggsy hopped out hurriedly, thanking the driver as he did. Harry clambered out, shooting the boy a reproving look over the roof of the car. Eggsy was shifting from foot to foot quite animatedly, and for the umpteenth time that evening, Harry watched him blush.

“Sorry, Harry, that might’a been a bit rude of me. I’m - kinda really - need bathroom,” he said lamely, feeling like a tit. “But I guess you have the key, so...” 

Harry had to smile at that. Nodding, he strode swiftly to his front door and unlocked it open. “Straight ahead,” he said, and Eggsy barrelled past him with a hasty thank you, not even waiting for Harry to turn the lights on properly.

Harry locked up his door and made his way into the kitchen, putting the kettle on by force of habit; tea would keep him up at this hour, but then again, so would Eggsy’s presence. 

Eggsy. Harry could hear him washing up, and was taken aback by his cry, “What the fuck?”

Harry crossed back through his dining room. “Something the matter?”

“Mr Pickle?” Eggsy said incredulously, his back to Harry. “What the fuck is this?” 

“My dog,” Harry replied.

“Your… dog,” Eggsy turned slowly, disbelief on his face. “Why the fuck do you keep him in the loo?”

Harry smiled wryly. “Mr Pickle is a fantastic conversation starter.” 

“Oh, he talks, does he?” 

“A very riveting conversationalist, yes.” 

Eggsy looked like he wanted to laugh and cry in that moment. Harry fought the urge to gather him up in his arms, instead gesturing upstairs, “Perhaps you’d like to wash up and get a bit of sleep?”

“Yeah. Cheers,” Eggsy said, not moving.

“You’ll find towels and whatever else you might need in your room,” Harry offered, and took a step back, as if to make his own way up the stairs. “First door when you reach the landing. Would you care for some tea?” 

“No, I’ll - thanks - I should sleep. Harry,” Eggsy took a step forward, and for a brief, unbearable moment, glanced at Harry’s mouth and back up again. Harry froze. As quickly as he’d stepped forward, however, Eggsy seemed to catch himself. “...thanks. Again. For, yeah… thanks,” and he hurried past Harry, bounding up the stairs two at a time, pausing when he reached the landing. He glanced back down at Harry, whose gaze had followed him, but he stayed still on the spot.

“Goodnight, Eggsy,” Harry said softly. “Well done today.” 

The tips of Eggsy’s ears turned pink. “Thanks. ‘Night, Harry,” he said, and he let himself into the guest room, shutting the door a little too forcefully behind him. 

Harry stared at the closed door for a long moment before attending to his tea. 

Up in the guest room, Eggsy toed off his winged Adidas and tossed his cap across the room, watching it flutter onto a squashy-looking chair in the corner. He flopped down onto a firm double mattress, scrubbing his hands down his face.

It was going to be a long twenty-four hours.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy grinned. “Somethin’ tells me you couldn’t give a fuck what Chester thinks.”
> 
> Harry pulled back, levelling his gaze with Eggsy’s. Eggsy would have shrunk back, if not for the twinkle of mirth in Harry’s eyes. “Right in this precise moment, no.” 
> 
> Then Harry’s mouth was on Eggsy’s again, and Eggsy forgot how to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several months later (oops), the story continues! With at least another chapter (or two) to follow! Because I quickly realised I would need to rewrite the latter half of the movie! Let's hope that doesn't take another seven months or we'll be here til Kingsman 3 drops!

Eggsy jolted awake at the sound of clanging metal on tile, followed by a cantankerous, “Shitting bollocks fuck!”

He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. Blearily, he took in his surroundings, trying to remember where the fuck he was. Another string of profanities drifted through the bedroom door (“Bloody buggering thing!”) - Harry’s voice - and as Eggsy took in the scent of _Harry_ surrounding him in his ridiculously comfortable bed, everything came back in a rush, smacking him in the proverbial face.

_“I fucking love you!”_

Eggsy cursed under his breath as the memory of yesterday’s trainwreck (ha fucking _ha_ ) replayed in his mind. Harry’s gobsmacked face as he loomed over Eggsy; Roxy’s face, a mixture of pride and devilish glee as she congratulated him; Harry’s bemused face as he’d bolted from the cab, busting for a piss; Harry’s daringly inscrutable face as Eggsy bade him goodnight; Merlin’s utterly disparaging look… _Oh, fucking hell,_ Eggsy dragged his hands over his face, wondering how he was going to face that man again.

And speaking of people he dreaded facing-

“Oh, you bastard shit,” Harry’s curse was followed by a heavy _thud_ , probably a kitchen cabinet slamming shut.

Flinging the covers back, Eggsy padded across the room to a tall mirror. He looked surprisingly _not_ shit considering the fitful sleep he’d had. Sure, the bags under his eyes were still there, and his hair was sticking up in too many directions, but somehow his reflection looked… content. Eggsy tried to talk himself out of the idea that it was because Harry had been nearby. The man really did bring out the best in him.

At his stomach’s insistent rumble, Eggsy pulled on the polo and jeans he’d been wearing the day before. He found a comb in the drawer of the side table (along with a crisp box of tissues and a leather memo pad that must have cost more than a week’s groceries at home), and did his best to tame the mess that was his hair. Deciding he’d done all he could, he exited the bedroom and headed downstairs.

As he descended the staircase, he could hear sizzling and stirring and clanging all at once, and couldn’t tell if Harry was trying to make a meal or build a rocketship in his kitchen. He rounded the corner and was met with the admittedly charming view of Harry’s backside as he bent over in front of the oven. He was grumbling, “Sodding _arse_ -”

“Alright, Harry?”

“...shit and fuck, and- Eggsy,” Harry straightened, swivelling on his heel, a deer in headlights. “Didn’t expect you to rise so early.”

Eggsy took a moment to absorb the sight in front of him. Despite his banging about, Harry was very well put together, wearing a crisp white shirt ironed perfectly, the same flawlessly knotted navy tie he’d worn the day before, and - best of all - a grey striped apron with nary a spot or stain on it. He had oven mitts to match the apron, and seemed to be in the middle of cursing at an oven full of dough balls.

“Bit hard to have a lie-in with that racket going,” Eggsy heard himself say.

Harry looked sheepish. “My apologies.”

Eggsy only grinned at him. If anything the verbal obscenities had only made him fall for Harry just a little bit more. It pleased him no end to know that under the gentlemanly facade, Harry was a short-tempered man who swore like a sailor.

“Do sit yourself down,” Harry said, after they’d spent just a moment too long looking at each other from opposite ends of the dining table. He pulled out a chair near him, motioning with his head, then took a step back. His eyes followed Eggsy as he approached.

“Cheers, Harry,” Eggsy lowered himself onto the chair, scooting himself close to the table. He got a proper look at the table setting then, and Harry watched in amusement as Eggsy’s face twisted in bafflement. “Why’s there three of everythin’? Are they spares for if I break this fragile posh shit?”

“Language, Eggsy.”

Eggsy scoffed. “You ain’t in a position to scold about language right now.”

Harry fought back a smile at that. “Take this,” he handed Eggsy a neatly-folded napkin, dark grey with an embroidered Kingsman ‘K’ on the corners. As Eggsy took it, his eyebrows quirked upwards inquiringly.

“Whenever you take a seat to dine, you must take the napkin and place it across your lap.”

Eggsy did, smoothing it down across his lap, idly wondering how much the little square of material was worth. Probably more than all his pants combined. He looked up at Harry expectantly once he’d laid it flat.

“The three different sets of cutlery are for separate courses,” Harry explained, as he turned away to retrieve something from the kitchen. “You start from the outside and work your way in with each course.”

“Gotcha.” He picked up the utensils delicately, amazed at the spotless silver. “My mum taught me how to hold ‘em proper,” he said proudly, demonstrating his grip to Harry, who was walking back over with a small basket of bread rolls.

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Harry said warmly, eyes crinkling. Eggsy’s face felt hot.

“Yeah, well.” Eggsy took care in putting the spoon and fork back in their places as Harry sidled up next to him. “She’s a proper lady, mum, when she wants to be.”

Harry made a noise of agreement, then proffered the basket. “Take a roll, and place it on the butter plate.”

Eggsy reached for the basket, a little startled to find the rolls were warm and fresh; he grabbed one, then eyed the multitude of crockery in front of him.

“I’ll be honest, Harry,” Eggsy said slowly, clutching the bread roll, abashed, “I’m lost.” He glanced up at Harry, who was watching him calmly.

“The butter plate,” Harry said again patiently, eyes gesturing to the smaller plate at the table setting. Gingerly, Eggsy looked over at it, his face burning even hotter than before. He retracted his hand from the roll as he set it down, his fingers interlocking on his lap, thumbs twiddling restlessly. Harry had set down the basket and was re-entering the kitchen.

Eggsy did his best not to gawk at his backside again - he failed spectacularly, of course - and ventured, “I would’a been happy with a bit of toast and jam, y’know.”

Harry chuckled. “It may come to that, I’m afraid,” and on cue, a rather charred smell reached Eggsy’s nose. “Apologies, Eggsy, I’m not used to cooking for more than one - my timers were all wrong, it seems.” Over in the kitchen, he held an oven tray aloft, disappointedly eyeing the little blackened lumps of god-knows-what.

“Is there a gentlemanly way to have beans on toast?” Eggsy teased.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Harry threw the oven tray carelessly into the sink, not even flinching at the deafening metallic clang that followed. “Of course there is.”

Eggsy grinned.

“Now I'm afraid we’ll have to stick with just this first course - we shall have soup to start,” Harry took up a small pot from the stove, steam billowing around him as he brought it to the table.”While not a conventional breakfast, usually some variety of soup with bread and such serves as an appetiser.” He placed the pot on the table corner, where Eggsy could see. Harry leaned down, producing a ladle, and peered over the pot as he stirred.

“That smells real good, Harry.”

“You must be famished,” Harry said by way of reply, “considering the last meal - if you can call it that - was chips and cheese almost ten hours ago.”

At the mention of food, Eggsy’s stomach gurgled. The sides of Harry’s mouth turned up, at the same time his glasses fogged up from the soup steam. Eggsy barked out a laugh, grinning more widely as he watched Harry  expertly ladle out soup into Eggsy’s bowl, despite his clouded vision.

“Am I supposed to wait ‘til everyone’s served before I start eating?”

“Only if the dish being served is cold,” Harry answered, taking his seat at the head of the table. “Or if the Queen is present. Otherwise, tuck in.”

Eggsy did.

“Then, if you're agreeable to it, I suggest we enjoy a healthy serving of beans on wholegrain toast.”

“And you're gonna show me how to do that like a gentleman, yeah?”

“Of course.”

* * *

When breakfast was said and done, and Eggsy was in the upstairs bathroom having a much-needed cold shower, Harry stood glaring at himself in the mirror. He’d fucked up a simple meal, sworn like a sailor in front of his protege and almost destroyed his best silverware, having only just fought down the urge to sweep it all onto the ground and pin said protege to the table.

Harry splashed cold water onto his face. He looked up at Mr Pickle, and the dog stared back, its beady eyes judging him.

“Oh, do sod off,” he huffed at the taxidermied animal. “What else am I supposed to do?”

It offered no response.

Harry groaned, remembering the image of Eggsy at the end of the table, slightly dishevelled from sleep, his grin lighting up the room. Harry’s heart had leapt up until his throat, mid-sentence, as he cursed at the useless balls of dough in the oven - he could only hope Eggsy didn't think any less of him for it.

He glanced at his watch, blinking water out of his eyes. Nineteen hours. Yes - surely he, Harry Hart, veteran Kingsman agent, could surely keep it in his trousers for just one more day. Not even a whole day, he thought, five hours short of a day, and even less if he accounted for Eggsy’s travel time when he left for HQ.

As he steeled himself mentally, Harry heard the water turn off upstairs, and his mind immediately conjured up an image of Eggsy as he must’ve appeared above him - hair dripping wet, a towel wrapped indecently about his waist, remnants of the shower running in rivulets down his naked back… Harry blasted the tap and sloshed more cold water onto his face, suppressing another groan, and willed the tent now ruining the front of his trousers to deflate.

 

* * *

 

Once dried and dressed, the two met in the foyer at the bottom of the stairs.

“I think it might be time you were shown around the shop,” Harry said.

Confused, Eggsy said, “Do agents gotta learn how to do actual tailorin’ as well?”

“Not as such, though it is an optional skill we can train you in - and a useful one at that,” Harry said, smiling.

“Right.”

“Got all your things?” Eggsy nodded. “Well. Shall we?” Harry gestured at the front door.

Eggsy made for the door, and was suddenly hyper aware of Harry pressed almost flush behind him, the man’s hand beating him to the handle.

He could feel Harry’s breath, warm on his neck, for a moment longer than should have been necessary before Harry murmured, “Let me get that for you.”

“Uh…”

Harry pushed the handle down with a soft _snick_ and Eggsy had to squint as the door swung open, the bright mews outside reflecting the pale morning sun. Eggsy could see a black Kingsman cab waiting at the bottom of the path. Behind him, Harry let another breath brush down the back of his neck before stepping back.

Eggsy suppressed a shiver.

Harry cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’ve left my glasses upstairs,” he turned on his heel and swept back up the stairs, two at a time. “Let yourself into the cab, I’ll join you in a moment!” he called from the landing. Eggsy could only watch his retreating form stupidly, overwhelmed by the effect Harry’s proximity had had on him. He dragged his hands down his face, forcing himself to take a deep breath, before heading down to the road.

Upstairs, Harry closed his bedroom door behind him, watching himself in the floor-length mirror that stood in the corner.

“Enough,” he grunted at his reflection.

After taking three steadying breaths, he pulled his glasses from his jacket pocket and secured them over his face, watching his own brow furrow into a frown.

This really was getting ridiculous.

 

* * *

 

A squirrel scurried by, brushing the wingtips of Eggsy’s trainers. He stared after the creature as it disappeared beneath a hedge, idly wondering if he, too, could get away with scrambling into the bushes and hiding from the world.

“Harry?” he said to the man sitting elegantly at the other end of the bench, umbrella propped against the black steel armrest.

“Yes, Eggsy.”

“What we doing here? Thought we was heading to the shop.”

“We are,” Harry assured him, his eyes glancing about the green canopy noncommittally.  “But I felt like a trip to the park would do us both some good, and it’s not too much of a detour.”

“So we’re not gonna just sit here forever?” Eggsy tried not to sound too disappointed.

A smile tugged at the sides of Harry’s mouth, his eyes crinkling. “We can go now, if you like.”

“Nah, this is nice,” Eggsy said, going a bit pink at how sincere he was being. He shifted his posture, aiming for more casual, and probably failing. “‘Sides, I prefer to walk on the streets, ‘round buildings, and such.”

“On and along buildings, you mean.”

Eggsy kicked a pebble away, scuffing his toes as he did. “Guess so.”

“You’d do well in extraction,” Harry said, tone surprisingly earnest. Eggsy’s brow furrowed, and he turned to look at Harry properly. “At the end of a mission,” Harry explained, “should an agent need to be picked up and escorted to safety, other agents can be called in to assist.”

“Like if you get shot on the job?”

“If one sustains an injury, yes, extraction is generally necessary,” Harry nodded, “and I imagine your freerunning skills would serve you well for missions in urban environments. You’d certainly be the most proficient of the agents in that regard.” There it was again - Eggsy tried hard not to notice - the smile that reached Harry’s eyes, accompanied by the firm belief that Eggsy would make it and become Lancelot. He had his self-doubts, but Harry had such faith in him. His stomach flip-flopped.

“Do you?” Eggsy said after wrestling with the butterflies in his stomach, and at Harry’s questioning expression, added, “Freerun.”

“I haven’t tried since I shattered my wrist against a sixth-storey air conditioning vent.”

Eggsy winced. “When was that?”

“In my second year of being Galahad.”

“Was you doin' an extraction?”

Harry sniffed and made a dismissive noise. “Not as such, no.” He picked at invisible bit of fluff on his trouser leg, looking - was it _abashed?_

“It was dark at the time,” Harry said, after a beat.

Eggsy waited.

“And Merlin had said to me-”

“He was there when it happened?” Eggsy grinned.

“Merlin was provoking my, ah, admittedly oversized ego, you see,” Harry said, his eyes not meeting Eggsy’s, “and insinuated that, despite the ‘pipe cleaner stilts that I called legs’, I couldn’t possibly make the leap from Kingsman’s roof to the building adjacent.”

Suppressing what would have been a very unattractive snort, Eggsy questioned, “Had to prove him wrong?”

“Naturally. I had to learn to write with my non-dominant hand, among other things,” Harry said, gesturing with said hand, “so, really, while my parkour skills fall a bit short of pathetic, I can happily wave my ambidexterity in Merlin’s face whenever I please.”

Eggsy laughed.

“The surgery to fix up the carpals left a rather nasty scar, too,” Harry held the offending wrist up for him to see. Eggsy scooted down the bench to get a proper look, leaning in. “You can see the suture almost forms a capital ‘F’, there.”

Eggsy had to squint to see it, a little bit of raised skin at the base of Harry’s hand. Without thinking he took Harry’s wrist in his hand, thumb grazing over the scar, mouth open a little as he inspected it. A grin started to form on his face, “How long did y’have to wait for…” His eyes met Harry’s then, and the rest of the sentence died on his lips. Eggsy became hyper aware that he was _holding Harry’s hand_ and that Harry’s face was _right there_ and that their legs were pressed _way too close together_ , and his breath hitched.

Eggsy nearly missed Harry’s eyes darting downwards for a fraction of second, and he could’ve sworn Harry was leaning in closer as he said quietly, “Wait for what?”

The wrist was lowered, Eggsy’s hand now practically in Harry’s lap. He didn’t let go of Harry’s wrist. “For the wound to heal,” Eggsy almost whispered, grazing his thumb over it again, not breaking eye contact.

“Not for very long,” Harry said, his voice low and almost inaudible, “but I do have a great deal of patience.”

“Really.” Eggsy found himself gripping Harry’s wrist a little more firmly. “Do gentlemen have a lot o’ patience, then?”

Harry nodded minutely, and swallowed. Hard. “Shitloads,” he answered, a little too loudly.

The sudden change in Harry’s tone made Eggsy jerk back, his hands jumping into his own lap, and he sat up straight against the bench. He shuffled a little to form a definitive gap between their thighs, feeling his face go very red indeed.

“Guess I'm not a gentleman, then,” Eggsy said, fidgeting with his sleeve and looking away from Harry. “I mean. Shouldn't we go to the shop already? We only got today to…” he trailed off, smacking himself in the proverbial forehead because he'd nearly ended that sentence with _“spend with each other"_ , as if his confession the day before hadn't made him sound like enough of a smitten idiot.

“Being a gentleman is learned over time,” Harry said, ignoring Eggsy’s incomplete statement, “I shall have to just teach you.”

Eggsy, in spite of his embarrassment, couldn't help but smile widely at Harry. Fuck, he was so _gone_ for this man. “You'd do that?”

“Of course,” Harry said easily, and squeezed Eggsy’s knee. “Kingsman couldn't possibly have an agent who was without the ability to make a proper martini.”

Eggsy wasn't sure which part of what had just happened excited him more - the idea that Harry would willingly spend more time with him, teaching him, or the idea that Harry was already talking as though he'd made it as an agent, or - equally best and worst of all - the way he'd touched Eggsy on the leg.

Actually, the way he was _still_ touching Eggsy on the leg…

Harry mistook Eggsy’s silence for confusion, and clarified, “One must use gin, never anything else, especially not vodka, and _stir_ it only. None of this nonsensical shaking business.”

Eggsy nodded dumbly, but all he could think about was Harry’s hand still on his leg, and oh fuck, he was _not_ at half-mast in the middle of Hyde fucking Park just because Harry was touching him on the knee. He almost choked when Harry gave his leg another firm squeeze, but bit back any noise he might have made as Harry said, “Let’s stretch our legs,” standing up a little abruptly, umbrella in hand. The spot his hand had been resting felt like it was burning into Eggsy’s leg, and he nearly whimpered at the loss of contact.

Pathetic.

“Alright... where we going?” Eggsy tried not to sound too petulant as he stood, hoping like hell the front of his trousers wasn’t telling any stories. He dared not glance down lest Harry’s gaze follow his.

“We’ll loop around the edge of the trees and then make for the shop, I think,” Harry said. “I walk this way often. I find it’s a very serene way of clearing one’s mind.”

Eggsy nodded dumbly, trying not to linger too long on just what sort of things Harry might need to clear his mind of.

“Right.” Harry swung his umbrella in a vague ‘this way’ motion, gesturing Eggsy forward.

 

* * *

“Aw, check out them two squirrels, they look like they’re huggin’!” Eggsy pointed out, almost giddily. “Mum was always scared of ‘em when we’d go for a walk.”

In all his years as a Kingsman agent, Harry had experienced and endured all manner of torturous situations. He hunkered down in a public toilet for six hours while waiting for recon in Minnesota. He swam almost the entire length of the English Channel before being instructed that his intel was wrong and that he had to turn around pronto, and he swam back, without resting. He endured cross-country trips with Merlin and his blasted country music cassettes (not even CDs, for crying out loud). He was tied down by masked men speaking in foreign tongues, and repeatedly smacked and shot in an effort to extract information from him (though they never succeeded). He was forced to land a very full passenger plane on rocky terrain with one arm in a sling and while very dozy on Rohypnol.

All of this ran through Harry’s mind as observed Eggsy’s smile, and in that moment he would have happily gone through all of that peril ten times over, rather than have to fight his own pathetic urges to kiss the boy senseless on the spot. As it was, he'd already made a fool of himself, practically gushing about Eggsy’s parkour ability and nearly feeling him up on a public bench.

“Yes, quite adorable,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound too droll.

“You any good at climbing trees when you was a kid?” Eggsy was saying, unaware of Harry’s inner turmoil.

“Terrible, actually,” Harry answered flatly. Eggsy snorted.

“I don’ believe that for a second,” Eggsy said, and approached the shadowy base of a nearby oak, his gaze angled up at the lowest branch within reach. Harry followed a little too closely behind him.

“Long legs like yours, Harry? Bet you could jump onto that first one.” Eggsy spun on his heel, eyes glittering. His expression faltered as he registered how close their faces were all of a sudden.

Harry mentally congratulated himself on his composure as he said drily, “Is that a challenge?”

Eggsy's eyes darted down to look at Harry's mouth for a fraction of a second.

“Might be,” Eggsy said, puffing his chest up bravely, chin raised; despite his bravado his eyes were unsure, looking at Harry’s searchingly, desperately. Harry tried to respond but found he'd forgotten how to speak all six of the languages he was conversationally fluent in. The silence between them grew thick as they held each other's gazes.

A flash of pink tongue emerged as Eggsy wet his lips.

Harry sighed. _Fuck it._

Eggsy found his back pressed up against oak, his vision filled with _Harry_. Time froze, their faces impossibly close; Harry’s eyes were dark, right hand trailing warmth from Eggsy’s neck and up his jaw. Harry’s thumb ghosted across Eggsy’s bottom lip, eliciting a gasp.

“Eggsy,” Harry murmured, his eyes soft. He leaned imperceptibly closer.

Eggsy had barely enough time to whisper, “Yes, Harry,” eyes fluttering shut as Harry’s mouth met his.

Almost instinctively, Eggsy raised his hands up along Harry’s sides, grasping just above his belt, urging their hips closer together. Harry sighed into Eggsy’s mouth, his free hand coming to rest on Eggsy’s lower back. Harry deepened the kiss, gently tilting Eggsy’s head back; Eggsy sighed contentedly, arms snaking further around Harry’s waist. Thirty seconds passed, or maybe it was thirty minutes, or hell, thirty years; Eggsy couldn’t be sure.

He wondered idly, as Harry’s tongue fought with his, if a spy operating at ‘the highest levels of discretion’ was breaking some kind of rule by engaging in such flagrant public displays of affection. He moaned quietly into Harry’s mouth as something very _hard_ pressed into his hip, and was incredibly thankful for the support of the tree behind him, lest he collapse on the spot. He felt especially grateful for the added support of one of Harry’s knees between his thighs as the man in question took Eggsy’s bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly before returning to kiss Eggsy very, very thoroughly.

It was another minute before Eggsy pulled away, panting. He watched Harry’s eyes open slowly, a small smile forming on the man’s lips. Eggsy drank in the sight of Harry, breathless and unapologetic.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” were the words that tumbled out of Eggsy’s mouth before he could stop them.

Harry’s face fell.

Panicking, Eggsy babbled, “I mean, like, last night - when we - before I went upstairs - couldn’t you just…” he trailed off, watching the smile slowly return to Harry’s face as he prattled on. He took a deep breath before huffing out, “How long?”

A hand stroked gently down his face. “Forgive me, Eggsy,” Harry said softly, eyes boring into Eggsy’s, “you can imagine that… this,” his left arm slid from where it had been grasping Eggsy’s shoulder, moving to grip the boy’s elbow, “is somewhat unorthodox, for a Kingsman agent and his recruit.”

“Didn’t see nothing in no rulebook about it,” Eggsy said.

“True enough,” Harry said, chuckling. He lowered his mouth to Eggsy’s neck, trailing a line of soft kisses up along his jawline as the boy threw his head back in response. “And not unheard of, either,” he said between kisses, murmuring softly into Eggsy’s ear, “but under the reign of a bigot like Chester King, perhaps not a wise move.”

Eggsy grinned. “Somethin’ tells me you couldn’t give a fuck what Chester thinks.”

Harry pulled back, levelling his gaze with Eggsy’s. Eggsy would have shrunk back, if not for the twinkle of mirth in Harry’s eyes. “Right in this precise moment, no.”

Then Harry’s mouth was on Eggsy’s again, and Eggsy forgot how to think. He drew Harry impossibly closer, arms tight around the man’s waist.

Some moments later, Eggsy broke the kiss, their foreheads touching, “Harry, do you think we should-”

“Fuck,” Harry interrupted Eggsy’s question as his glasses chirped in his ear. Eggsy bit back a laugh at the non-sequitur as Harry turned away towards the ground on his left, his hand still cupping Eggsy’s jaw; with his free hand, he gave his glasses a tap.

“Merlin.” Harry felt Eggsy tense, hands gripping on his hips a little tighter.

“Harry. Valentine is finally saying something of note.”

“Ah.” Harry spared a glance at Eggsy, relaxing the hand that was gripping the boy’s jaw and resting it at the base of his neck instead, thumb grazing gently against his chin. Eggsy visibly relaxed a little, loosening his grip on Harry. “Go ahead, Merlin. An audio recording, is it?”

To Harry's surprise, Merlin sounded flustered. “Er. Yes. Have - have I interrupted something?”

“Not at all,” Harry answered, far too quickly. Mentally, he kicked himself for forgetting that his glasses video feed was also transmitting straight to HQ, and hurriedly looked away from Eggsy again.

Eggsy’s brows climbed towards his hairline.

“Merlin?” Harry said cautiously, when the tech wizard failed to continue.

Harry could hear Merlin shuffling something about on his end. “I’ll leave you two… ah, leave you to it,” Merlin cleared his throat, “I'll monitor Valentine while you...” Harry heard a thunk that sounded suspiciously like a mug being tipped over, “...finish your errands.”

Without waiting for a reply, Merlin cut the comms connection.

“Fuck,” Harry said again.

Eggsy fought down a “ _Sure, I’d love to_ ” at the look of consternation that crossed Harry’s features. Instead, he gave Harry’s middle a daring squeeze. Eggsy said, half-jokingly, “Is Merlin gonna fire you now?”

After a moment of consideration, Harry ran his hands gently down and along Eggsy’s arms, stopping to remove his wrists from where they had ensnared his waist. “No,” Harry said, eyes roving hungrily over Eggsy’s face, as the boy smirked up at him. “Arthur might, however, if Merlin decides to tell him about this.”

Eggsy paled. Harry chuckled.

“He won’t, Eggsy, don’t fret.” Harry brushed an affectionate hand over Eggsy’s cheeks and extracted himself from their embrace, inwardly congratulating himself on his self-control. At the loss of contact, Eggsy pouted. Honest-to-god _pouted_. Harry merely raised an eyebrow in response; they were in the middle of a public park, after all. “Now, I believe I promised I would show you the tailor shop.”

“So we’re not gonna talk about what just happened?”

“Later,” Harry grasped one of Eggsy’s hands between his own, placing a small kiss on his knuckles. Eggsy felt himself go red. The hand was dropped, and Harry turned on his heel. “Now, come along. We’ve an appointment to keep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm now [superspysuperspy](http://superspysuperspy.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, do come and screech about Colin Firth with me.


End file.
